


Death of a Naturalist

by niastewfart



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Gen, Hanahaki Disease
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niastewfart/pseuds/niastewfart
Summary: This was not the best idea, you realised. In hindsight, maybe you should have prepared for this eventuality but unfortunately it wasn’t something included in Diavolo’s opening speech. You mentally kicked yourself as you stared at the petals in your hand, biting back at the bile in your throat. What were you going to do? It’s not like you could hide it successfully (for very long, at least) and it’s not exactly like you could confess. You knew what would happen, you were only human after all. Regardless it didn’t matter; you were coughing up blood and flower stems and there was nothing to be done about it.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Reader has Hanahaki's for one of the brothers. CW for some minor body horror typical of this trope, but there's nothing too in your face! Enjoy!
Relationships: Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader
Comments: 33
Kudos: 464





	1. Prologue

This was not the best idea, you realised. In hindsight, maybe you should have prepared for this eventuality but unfortunately it wasn’t something included in Diavolo’s opening speech. You mentally kicked yourself as you stared at the petals in your hand, biting back at the bile in your throat. What were you going to do? It’s not like you could hide it successfully (for very long, at least) and it’s not exactly like you could confess. You knew what would happen, you were only human after all. Regardless it didn’t matter; you were coughing up blood and flower stems and there was nothing to be done about it.

You tried to make it through the day, you really did. But the hacking cough only got worse the more you thought about it. So you tried to ignore it. That worked for a week and a bit, but eventually the petals made their way into your hand again. And again. A familiar pain blossomed in the space between your ribs as you tried to choke back tears and stems. Laboured breaths tore through your crowded lungs as you gasped for air around the plants. This was the biggest load yet. The incessant nature of it all had torn your throat up and you stared in horror, recoiling as you realised there was blood coating this new batch. Sighing, you leaned back as a tickle started at the back of your throat again. This was going to be a long night you realised.

Things had only gotten worse from there. You couldn’t sleep because anytime you lay down you could feel a new flower head try to come up. You couldn’t sit up because then you wouldn’t fall asleep. You couldn’t do anything through the blinding pain which felt like it had crawled into the darkness of your lungs and made a home. Sobs wracked your body as you tried to stifle the newest protrusion, choking slightly when it got to be too much. Your body spasmed as it forced what felt to be a tangled bunch of flowers up your windpipe. Crying out you threw them away from you, disgusted with the blood drenched bunch. If only you hadn’t been so…human. So drawn to these creatures like a moth to a flame. It was laughable, really, you thought as you bit back a laugh, biting down on a stray petal. You stood, shakily at first, but with growing confidence. Gathering the flowers, broken stems and tangled roots, you laughed to yourself as you threw them in the bin, hoping that you could quell your aching lungs and heart.

An alarm blared, there was a banging noise and raised voices right by your door. Sitting up, you wiped the small line of dried blood from your chin. You looked down at your pillow and nearly screamed in horror. It was covered in petals and the broken heads of flowers. Tears starting again, you flipped your pillow, and fumbled to turn your alarm off. You anxiously checked your face in the mirror as the banging on your door became more insistent. In your sleep deprived state you could only make out snippets, “know you’re awake”, “open the door”, “heard you coughing all last night”. Your heart drops at that one and you try to ignore the rising sense of fear and nausea. Something is at the back of your throat again. Is it words? Is it your unspoken cry for attention? For love? Oh, no its just more flowers. You can tell it’s getting worse as every time you cough you can feel a tugging inside your lungs. With a now crescendo of fear you realise they’re rooting. Just like how the roots of your ill-fated favouritism grew into something much more poisonous and deadly for you, so were the roots of (what you now found to be) a mocking reminder of your unworthiness of their affection. Why were you so fallible? Why couldn’t your little heart understand that this wasn’t some school yard crush where you could get your heart broken and recover. Sighing, you smoothed your hair and opened the door.


	2. Easter Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boi one of seven: Belphegor

Frankly this was not the face you expected to see. You had expected Lucifer to stare you down but instead you were about eye level with the youngest, who seemed rather frustrated with the whole situation.

“I’ve been knocking for ten minutes, what were you even doing? Sleep walking?”

You fake a smile and bite your tongue, not sure how to respond. He clearly didn’t expect you to as he continues his spiel.

“Whatever, I’m taking a nap.”

You freeze for the umpteenth time this morning as he makes his way to your bed.

“Uh, wait! I need to get ready, can’t you nap on the couch? Or in your room? Or literally anywhere else?”

He sighs, and stops himself from fully reclining, instead simply resting his head on the wall. Confused, you try to usher him out of your room to no avail. His attention is clearly elsewhere as he stares at the corner of your room, head quirked to the side ever so slightly.

“Why are there flowers in your wastebasket?”

Your eyes wet slightly before you shrug, something else choking your voice out for once. He clearly doesn’t notice and sighs before standing making his way to the door again. You stare at him as he stands there, looking rather conflicted.

“I told Lucifer you were sick, you don’t have to go in today. If you need anything message me,” he says in between deep sighs. You nod, anxious for him to leave so you can tidy your room and hopefully do something about the state of your bloodied pillow.

Your breath catches in your throat, again. The brothers are being too loud, again. Your room is tidy at least, and your pillow bleached within an inch of its poor cotton life. Your shaky hands rake through your hair as you sigh deeply, trying to calm whatever is making its way up now. It does nothing and your body seizes with the spasms of another bout of coughing. You hear footsteps, but don’t care anymore. You can tell your throat is closing and you can taste iron in your mouth. Your vision blurs, with light headedness or tears you can’t tell, as you curl around yourself. A perfectly manicured hand rubs your back as somebody tuts above you, pushing your door closed.

“Poor thing,” Asmo mumbles, petting your hair as you shake with the aftershocks of nearly losing consciousness.

“Don’t,” your sentence is broken off by another cough. “Don’t tell anyone,” you beg, looking up at Asmo through tear filled lashes. He smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“You’re not as subtle as you think,” he almost laughs, “I mean an Easter Lily? Really? You think I can’t tell who that’s for?”

He pokes your side, and you can tell he’s trying his best to cheer you up. You’re having none of it though, as another load of coughs pushes your body to its limits.

“You realise he knows already?” He smiles wryly, petting your hair again. “He saw them this morning.”

You push him away, curling up tighter, wishing the floor would swallow you whole. You can’t speak anymore, your throat too raw for anything of the sort, but your eyes and body language plead with Asmo to leave. You’re already embarrassed enough, you don’t need him telling you all about how Belphie hates you now.

You think he’s taken the hint when you hear him get up and leave, closing the door gently. Half crawling, half dragging yourself you make your way to the bed. Your body is too weak for you to actually pull yourself up, but you at least rest your head on the plushness of the duvet. And then your momentary tranquillity is broken by the sound of the door.

Unwilling to move from the only comfortable position you’ve been able to find all day, you simply wave your hand aimlessly at the door, croaking out in what you hope is an obvious plea for privacy. Asmo clearly doesn’t care as he continues to step towards you and tosses something to the floor beside you. You crack an eye open, looking down at a… cow print pillow? Oh god no, not now. You refuse to look at him, but you can tell he’s staring at you as he lowers himself to the ground beside you.

“Is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” He asks, voice dangerously quiet and you swear you can hear a slight waver, as if he cared about spending time with you. But who were you kidding. You nod, still not looking at him.

You hear him sigh, and you go to let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. But instead it catches, and you choke out a sob laced with a flurry of petals and leaves, a ripping sensation in your diaphragm. You wheeze for air, as a cold hand rubs small circles on your back. You can tell he’s waiting for you to stop so he can say something, and you almost wish you could keep coughing, just to avoid the inevitable revelation that he no longer wants to see you and that he hates you and-

Your racing thoughts are cut off by a heavy sigh beside your ear. You move your head slightly to look at him for the first time since he entered your room and…is he flushed? No, it must just be the light.

“I knew humans were weaker, but I didn’t realise it was by this much.” He frowns at you, and you feel any sense of hope fade. He seems to take no notice, but his hand doesn’t move from your back.

“MC,” he struggles with his words, going silent before continuing, “why didn’t you say anything?”

Now that catches you off guard. Why didn’t you say anything? Because he hates you? Because he hates humanity? Because you’re clearly not up to his calibre anyway so what’s the point of ever telling him about your school girl crush. Because you don’t think you’re enough.

He watches your face closely before taking it gently in his hands. Here it comes, the impending rejection train to take you straight to heart break town. He sighs and gives you a smile that looks more pained than anything else.

“I could have stopped this before it got so bad,” he trails off, looking to your face for any semblance of acceptance.

Wait- does he?

“MC I don’t…I don’t take to people easily. But I think you’re an exception,” he says softly, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. He can taste the iron from your bouts, and he looks worried again. But you? You feel like you can breathe for the first time in a while.


	3. Snake's Head and Narcissus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our boi luci getting some attention! This one was a little more angsty than belph but oh well-

It’s Lucifer, as you expected. The first thing you notice is he has his back to the door. The second thing you notice is the small tremors in his shoulders. Is he…laughing? And then you hear it. A tell tale choked sound. He’s coughing. You try to calm your heart as it writhes in your chest, it couldn’t be for you, right? He probably just has the cold. Yes, that must be it. You know demons can get them since he’s already been sick, so it must just be that. The eldest turns to you, and you swear you see a flash of fear in his eyes as he tucks his hands behind his back, eyes boring holes in you.

“You’re going to be late,” he says, punctuated with a glare.

“Sorry,” you mumble, eyes fixed firmly on the ground, you can tell you’re flushed.

He grunts in response, and opens his mouth to speak again but his breath catches slightly as he attempts to clear his throat. You sigh and bite the bullet.

“I’ll be down for breakfast in a second,” you say softly, closing the door as he appears to nod. You hear his steps descend the stairs and you begin to ready yourself for the day. Finally deciding that that will have to do, and you can suffer through another day with little to no sleep, you open your door, grabbing your bag and step into the landing. Immediately stopping you see a small flower head, barely bloomed, trodden into the carpet. You panic, before realising wait, it’s not one of yours? It looks almost like a daffodil but on closer inspection it appears to be a narcissus. You wrack your brain trying to think who could have- oh god. You realise with a dawning horror that the only person you’ve seen with a cough (apart from yourself) is Lucifer. Could this get any worse? You snicker with a tinge of self-depreciation of course the avatar of pride would be coughing a flower named after narcissus. It’s a welcome change from the purple, drooping blooms of snake’s head and has a much nicer history, being a symbol of rebirth instead of the biblical connotations of your lung’s inhabitants. Sighing, you run a shaky hand through your hair as you try to steady your breath, picking up the small, slightly blood-stained flower and placing it in the pocket of your uniform. Today was going to be a long day.

Surprisingly, you make it through the day relatively in one piece. You have to leave for the bathroom a few times, wanting to avoid the stares from your classmates as you claw at the back of your throat anxiously trying to pull before it gets caught. Regardless though, you’re rather happy with yourself and decide that if you can just get through dinner without incident then perhaps you may actually sleep through the night. You’re halfway home when it hits you. Had you taken out the lining of your waste basket? Or had you left the (what would now be) wilting flowers in there? A wave of anxiety crashes over your ill begotten hope as you start walking faster. Nobody would go into your room, right? You were usually the first home, with only Lucifer or Mammon getting their before you (excluding Levi who never left, but that’s beside the point). Mammon wouldn’t look through your bin, and anyway, if he did you could just se the pact to stop him running his mouth, right? Right? Lucifer wasn’t the type to look through your room if you weren’t there, so you supposed you had nothing to worry about. And anyway, you could always blackmail him with the little flower bud you’d found this morning. If blackmailing Lucifer was a good idea. You had calmed yourself down slightly when you entered the house again, hanging your coat by the door and practically sprinting upstairs.

You stop at the door, the sickly-sweet smell of rotting flowers hitting you in the face. Sighing, you set your bag down and jump clean out of your skin when you hear a cough and strangled noise from behind you. You don’t have to turn around to know who it is, but you do anyway. Once again, he has his back to you. He’s kneeling on the ground by your waste basket and your heart jumps into your mouth. Oh he hates you now, doesn’t he? He thinks too highly of himself- no, his reputation to care for somebody as small and insignificant as you. He doesn’t turn to face you, you suppose you wouldn’t either, if somebody you clearly now found repulsive unknowingly announced their feelings to you. You forget about the flower in your now discarded coat. Instead, your overcome with a wave of self-hatred which swiftly turns to anger. Why had he been in your room? What right did he have to go there when you weren’t? You’re about to voice your anger when he speaks, and you swear you hear the cracks in it.

“They say that all the flowers bowed to Jesus as he made his way to the cavalry in the garden of Gethsemane. All but the snakes head. The angels came down and told it its place, and it flushed, bowing its head.”

You stare at the ground, not sure what he wants you to do with this information. Is this a test? Is this a warning of what he’s going to do-

“After that it became a symbol for arrogance,” his sentence is punctuated with a dry cough. “MC, I’m no fool. I know the implication of this.”

You shuffle anxiously, refusing to look at him, now that you can tell he’s turned to look at you. You can practically feel holes bored into your face from his intense stare. His breathing doesn’t sound as laboured as it did this morning, but you feel as if somebody has sucked all the air from your lungs. You forget what it feels like to breathe freely. A cough works its way to your throat and you try to choke back the emerging flower buds. He stands, suddenly, and steps towards you with intent. Anxious and embarrassed, you turn your head away, but he catches your chin with his hand. Gently, he tilts your head up to his.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

That throws you for a loop, and you bite back insults and tears. Why didn’t you tell him? Because he’d hate you, next question. But your dramatic self-monologue is cut off by a gentle kiss to your cheek and a wry laugh.

“Would have saved me some sleepless nights as well.”

Now he’s definitely lost you. You look at him, confusion clear in your eyes as he tuts and wipes stray tears.

“This…ailment isn’t exclusive to humans, and with how much you’ve been avoiding us all I guess I assumed you didn’t have an interest.”

You laugh, shaking your head and accidentally knocking his hand away from your face. This was his way of teasing, you were sure.

“MC, I don’t see what you find so amusing about my confession, was I not clear enough?”

You stare at him, your anger blossoming again and a growing pain in your ribs as you choke out, “stop teasing me, I know you don’t care. Just leave me alone, okay? Don’t you think you’ve embarrassed me enough already?”

He almost seems angry with you, but it turns to hurt and then the defiance just as quick.

“I’m not teasing,” he says, the quietest you’ve ever heard him. You feel something dislodge itself in your lung and have to steady yourself against his chest due to the dizziness from the pain. He sighs and holds you. Desperate, you try to push him away, you can tell something is coming, but instead he just holds you tighter. You stop, and resign yourself to the embrace. He pats your back gently, and you feel a rumble in his chest as he goes to speak again.

“I truly do care for you, MC,” he mumbles into your hair.

You feel something new, more hopeful blossom in your chest. Slowly, you hug him back: you could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, thank you for all the kind words! I haven't written in a really long time so it's nice to see some encouragement and that I'm at least making people smile!


	4. Yellow Tulips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> boi #3 is up to the plate

You’re met with the suspicious stare of the second eldest as he tries to barge his way in, mumbling something about it being a weekend so he wanted to watch movies. Sighing, you stand your ground and refuse to move, giving him a tired glare.

“Mammon let me get dressed first, I have to tidy my room anyway.”

He replies, but in your sleep deprived state you don’t register what he’s saying until he’s closed your door and you hear steps descending the stairs leading to your little alcove. You begin to ready yourself, gathering any stray petals or leaves on your way. The little yellow flowers have already started to wilt, and you have to spray perfume to mask the rotten smell. With great difficulty, you open the window, and gather your bin lining as well as your pillow case, tossing them in the cupboard to be dealt with later.

Still in a haze, you descend the stairs towards the common areas, hoping that Beel hasn’t eaten everything by this late stage in the day. Thankfully, there are still the remnants of a breakfast at the table, and you sit down, buttering yourself a piece of toast as the fourth born sits himself across from you, quickly followed by Asmo. You can tell they’re staring, but try to ignore the new bulb making its way up your throat.

“We heard you coughing all last night,” Satan begins before Asmo interrupts, staring at you conspiratorially.

“And I know why-“

“We don’t know for sure, that’s why we’re asking you. Does this belong to you?”

He holds out a small tulip bulb, some yellow petals still attached, and searches your face for a reaction. You deny him one, willing your face to stay calm.

“What would it matter, even if it was mine?” You choke out, voice hoarse from a night spent retching.

“It wouldn’t,” Asmo replies, a faint smile on his face, “unless you wanted some advice?”

He phrases it like you have a choice, but you can tell he’s going to tell you regardless. The pair stop though, Satan crushing the little flower in his hand as he draws it back across the table and a familiar loud presence sits itself next to you.

“So anyway MC, like I was saying last night, what say you and the great Mammon try that new money-making scheme I thought up, huh?”

“Mammon that was a ponzi scheme,” you laugh wryly giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, and what about it?”

“Those are illegal.”

“ _Yeah,_ and what about it?”

You laugh again, clutching a hand to your chest as you begin to cough again. Mammon makes some comment about you being a weak human, and the viper below the flower raises its head. Of course he wouldn’t like you, all he sees you as is a burden. Sighing, you try to finish your toast, Mammon already buzzing about to his next potential business partners.

Asmo and Satan stare at you, with almost mirrored expressions. You glare at them, but calm slightly when you realise that they can’t know who the flowers have bloomed for, right?

“MC do you know what yellow tulips symbolise?” Satan asks.

You shake your head.

“They are given to those who believe their love is a hopeless one,” Asmo finished for his older brother. You shrug, this means nothing new to you, to you they had already pointed to a self-hatred streak a mile wide and an unrequited love. Asmo huffs in annoyance.

“MC we know they’re for Mammon.”

You choke on your toast, glaring up at them with what you can only help is a threatening stare.

“What’s for Mammon?”

Your heart sinks, and this time you really do mean the venom behind your glare. Now they’d gone and done it. Mammon sat down next to you, staring at you with excitement clear in his eyes, you almost laugh. He obviously thinks it’s a present. God that would be a woeful present, “hey you hate me but here’s the flowers which grow in my lungs cause I hate myself, anyway have a good day!”. Your thoughts are interrupted by something forcing its way into your mouth and you gag, coughing and spluttering as Asmo and Satan glare at Mammon to do something helpful. He obliges, patting your back gently.

You try to grab a tissue, you really do, but when there’s such a large bunch of them, there’s really nothing you can do. Weakly, you turn away from Mammon, hoping he doesn’t se. he’s temporarily oblivious but a bulb drops to the floor and rolls to his feet. He inspects it, and is hit with a freight train of a thought. He practically hits himself, suddenly realising why you were coughing, why you were avoiding him. It was clear now, you must like one of his brothers.

“MC who’s the guy that’s letting ya down, I’ll have to have a word with him,” he tries to mask the heartbreak in his voice, “you are _my_ human afterall.”

You’re choking again as Asmo laughs and Satan shakes his head.

“Truly something else,” he snickers, before him and Asmo leave you to try and explain yourself.

“Mammon, it’s not…it’s you, okay? They’re for you.”

Now it’s his turn to get choked up, as he stares at you with wide eyes (not that you could tell from behind his sunglasses). You stare at the rotting flowers in your lap and can feel tears prick your eyes.

“Well of course they are,” he stutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Even humans find the great Mammon irresistible!”

You roll your eyes and go to leave, when he catches your arm.

“Well, uh MC I did say I’d have to have a word with the guy, so why don’t you come with? Over dinner?”

You’re confused, but then you realise, he’s asking you on a date. You smile and nod, feeling as if a weight has been lifted from your ribs as he takes your hand.


	5. Spring Crocus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy sorry this took me so long to update, life kinda got in the way lmao. I had to apply for University etc and the time just got away from me! Anyway, enjoy our boi Satan's chapter

You open the door anxiously, recognising the concerned voice of Satan, as he simply stares at your still shaking form. Eyeing you over, he seems to notice your weakness and inability to catch your breath. The small purple flowers with their yellow pollen lay discarded in a waste basket as he finally clears his throat, breaking the now tense silence.

“I heard you coughing, I hope you don’t mind but I came to check up on you?” He phrases it almost like a question, once again eyeing your shaking form. You nod weakly. 

“Are you ill?” You stifle a laugh, shrugging, “just a human thing, don’t worry about it.”

He seems to take this as an answer, giving you one last glance before turning and heading back down the stairs. You assume that’s the last of your unwanted visitors when you hear more footsteps headed up to your little alcove sanctuary. You realise quickly, from the sharp clacking of his dress shoes, that it’s Lucifer. Wincing, you hurriedly “tidy” your room, throwing some paper into the bin to cover the flowers, and folding clothes. You make a show of pretending to do your hair as the eldest brother walks in.

“Satan said you were ill.”

You nod.

“Normally I don’t agree with something as...lazy as a sick day, but I suppose humans are weaker in that aspect,” you internally groan, preparing for a lecture, when he cuts himself off with an almost concerned glance. “You haven’t been eating with us anymore, I’m not an idiot I’ve seen Mammon secreting food up to your room while you ‘study’. Have one of us upset you?”

Panicked, you shake your head, which only irritates the growing lump in your throat. A cough worms it’s way out of your throat, bringing with it a few stray petals and leaves, which do not escape Lucifer's sharp gaze. 

“And just what are these?”

“Just a...human...thing?” You try, attempting to crack a smile.

You panic even more when he picks one up, inspecting it and seemingly resigning himself to something. Confused, you watch him leave the room, and see his head gradually disappear down the stairs. Trying not to think too much of it, you reassure yourself with the fact that at least he’s given you a day off. You fire off a quick text to Luke asking him to send you any notes you’ve missed, and curl back into bed, but not before dragging over the waste paper basket in the case of any more petal related coughing fits.

You aren’t sure what time it is when you hear faint knocking on your door, all you can really tell is that your throat is raw, blood is trickling down your chin and it’s incredibly hard to breathe. You croak out what is supposed to be a ‘go away’, but it ends up sounding more like a wheeze an old dog toy would make. The person at the other side of the door takes it as a welcome in and through your slightly teary eyes you can make out a green sweater and mop of blond hair. Satan gestures to the spot on the bed beside you and you reluctantly nod, hoping that he’s simply here to tell you about some tea he read about that might help, or a random leaf that might help with pain. Instead he opens his palm to show a flower. Not just any flower, a Spring Crocus. You would recognise it anywhere, it’s practically burned into your mind now after the countless hours spent plucking the petals from between your teeth or scraping the pollen off your tongue. You cringe away from him, tightening in around yourself. He just watches you, unsure of what to say.

“Y/n?” He begins. You shake your head, being difficult in an attempt to save your pride.

“Lucifer asked me to take a look at this, he thought I might be able to find out why it was in your mouth. I couldn’t find any books on it, but Asmo was quite helpful. Do you know what he told me? He said that it’s a human disease where a flower roots in the lungs of somebody who is experiencing perceived unrequited love.”

He pauses to watch your reaction, and continues, “at first I was confused, well why would it be in your lungs? Surely you could...catch anyone you wanted, right? Right?”.

He sounds almost incredulous, you feel almost like he’s judging you for your cowardice in not confessing to this mystery person. You notice he’s watching your face carefully, and you make note of his eyelashes, the way the light catches his eyes, and you sigh, not wanting to risk enraging him by either lying or not responding. 

“Not to be rude,” you sputter weakly, “but where is this going?”.

“Did you know these are poisonous? Y/n you could die a lot quicker from the toxins in these than from the roots taking hold.”

Oh he’s definitely judging you now, he’s almost working himself into a frenzy, ranting to you about how dangerous this was and how you should have just said something, that Asmo could have helped you out, that they could have looked into a cure. That now he was worried you had left it too late. You were paying attention to none of this, you were watching the way his hands moved while he spoke, or the tiny, almost imperceptible movements of his brow, or maybe it was the way he spoke to you as if he cared about whether or not you survived this. Was he really so deep in his research he hadn’t realised what these plants represented? That they weren’t just for some random demon you had met on your exchange year? Almost as soon as you thought of this, a strange look passed over his face. You’d seen him pull a similar one when watching his crime shows, when he’d finally puzzled something out. Blankly, you stared at him, waiting for him to explain his sudden change of expression. When quickly, but delicately he placed a kiss to your chapped and bloody lips. Too dazed and half asleep to react, you simply enjoy the moment, before he separates, ears positively pink, and straightens out his jacket. A small laugh escapes you, and for once, it doesn’t catch on its way up.


End file.
